TO HIM I HUNG THE MOON

a poem by Angela Hoeflich, USA

He stood and walked on ground my feet could never touch.A dignity higher, integrity brighter--I loved him so much.Successful he was in all that he endeavored.From the simplest tasks to fighting for life, he weathered.

Standing tall as a soldier for our freedom he fought.The horrors and agony he didn't suffer for naught.Battle after battle with victory as a goalWith humbleness and honor, combatting for the whole.

None of this I knew until I was olderHe was Grandpa to me--not a fighting soldier.A picture of life sustained through struggling and survivingTo reach the destination of happiness and thriving.

Time in my youth was spent rushing to get grown.Alone with my memories now, I wish I had known.To enjoy and savor the minutes with him at my life's helmSteering and guiding me, for now alone I'm overwhelmed.

He thought I could do anything--of this he was sure!His belief in me was love: simple and pure.We watched as we grew older and some things had to change.He nurtured me at first, then we rearranged.

His life is a guideline and a path with footprints in my heartTo put forth every effort and finish what I start.His smiling face and open arms I'll see one day soon.I could never measure up, but to him I hung the moon.